


Legendary

by KarkaHatchlings



Series: Guild Wars 2 Interstitial [12]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: Celebrations, Conversations, F/M, Flameseeker Prophesies, Fluff, Magical Artifacts, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 19:52:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15825816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarkaHatchlings/pseuds/KarkaHatchlings
Summary: A party is held for the forging of a legendary.





	Legendary

Calloused fingertips traced delicate scrollwork along the heavy shield’s rim.  He remembered carving it, but seeing and touching the silken metal at completion brought a new sense of wonderment.  It was as if someone else entirely had done the work, painstakingly reshaping the ancient wing-faced shield beyond even its own rare and mystical origins.

Popping fireworks, launched from further down the beach, made the reliefs sway and come alive briefly in tints of red, blue and green under dusk’s shadows.  Brave, doomed warriors, resplendent in their noble armor, waited in serried ranks, banners fluttering in carven wind. In another panel, a dragon, majestic in mien, arched its neck, its role in the story being quietly told only hinted at.  The shouts that went up at the skyward bursts echoed long-ago battle cries. 

Shining with an eerie blue light of its own, a page turned on the graven book that dominated the artifact.  Charter spelled out the words revealed, lips moving in reverential silence. “Heed the Prophesies. Beware the unseen enemy.”

With a sigh, he leaned back, looking up as the stars faded back in over Lion’s Arch to reclaim their place, the latest round of fireworks dying in falling streaks.  In comparison to the short-lived flares, their more eternal counterparts sparkled with a chilly, impassive glint. The fleeting celebration intruding on their sky was no enduring rival to them.

Another warning, a couple of centuries too late.  The azure glow flickered again as another page turned, but Charter didn’t read this one.  The magic of the artifact formed the words; he had no recollection of engraving them at all.  It would only be more dire portent, he knew, a haunted past for a troubled present and uncertain future.

The man allowed his hands to go slack on the edges of the shield, and it slipped from his lap, the rim digging into the sand.  Without his attention upon it, the book’s glow faltered, pages becoming nothing more than still metal once again.

Another round of shouts heralded more salvos of fireworks and Charter looked back up the beach to where the rest of the guild was still celebrating.  Towering above the others, Garbrech lifted a mug high against the backdrop of Lion’s Arch. In a rare gesture of comradery or perhaps just the demands of drinking he’d taken off his helmet.  The pale, broad face beneath was creased with scars under red tattooing. Even though the rest roared approval, his tight-lipped visage showed the toast was a silent one for him.

From the hoisted drink, Charter let his eyes drift down over the others.  Mippa’s bobbing blood fiend hovered near the banquet table set up on the sands, likely putting people off their appetite, while Feyneth draped over Tomas’ arm, leaving the Pact veteran looking distinctly uncomfortable.  Biwt, seated near the bonfire, watched the proceedings, not quite allowing herself to enjoy them.

“Children!” called Chalice, raising her flagon.  She paused for effect, letting the blue and gold bursts overhead paint her armor in shifting light.

The wait was a second too long and Balrit held his own drink aloft, voice rising over hers as well, “a toast!”  His booming roar was loud enough to have been magically enhanced somehow, rolling out over the beach while most of the other voices were distant mutters.  “To stories told and retold. May they never be quite the same!” The charr ignored the daggers glared at him by the woman he’d upstaged but the others laughed openly, catching the byplay.

The carousing was as distant as a painting, despite being held at least partially in his honor.  Charter’d chosen to be alone with his thoughts and the others would understand. They were all part of the guild, there were things to be tolerated in each of them.

Absently, he looked lower, trying to spot a smaller shape among the others.  Not finding the one he sought, he straightened slightly in unconscious concern before his gaze swept along the beach closer at hand.  The asura stood at the head of a trail of footprints nearby, her thin shadow cast by distant city lanterns to stretch many times her length, almost to where he sat.  A burst of purple overhead obliterated it for a moment and lit her large, inquisitive eyes.

“Hey,” he acknowledged.  Taking it as an invitation, she sauntered the rest of the way over, swaying on short, thick legs.  She’d left her helmet somewhere, but the mail under her breastplate made a metallic whisper as she drew closer.

“You’re missing the party,” Pleek didn’t bother with a greeting.  Despite the human’s seat on the sand, she still only had the width of a few fingers height on him.  “This is your moment.”

Charter looked away, out across the harbor.  With the lighthouse still under construction, the far shore was dark.  “It’s only a moment,” the shoulders of his coat rolled in a dismissive shrug.

“Maybe,” her high forehead creased at his response, “but this is forever.  You’ve made your mark on the world, Charter.” The tips of her claws clicked as she ran them over the elaborate rim of the shield.

“I wonder,” the human said, still noncommittal, “if that’s what the heroes of the past thought.  And now their names are long gone.”

The asura’s frown deepened in concern rather than annoyance.  “If there’s something wrong, why don’t you just say it?”

“There’s nothing to say,” the man seated on the ground looked over at her, eye-to-eye for once.  Just as quickly he found something else to look at, avoiding her furious gaze.

“Don’t you dare, Simeon Charter,” demanded Pleek, cutting off his denial, “don’t you dare.”

“After all we’ve been through together, I know you.  I knew you were up to something before you admitted collecting everything you needed for this.  I know why the gloves under those sleeves are trimmed in red and gold,” that drew his attention again, but she returned his surprised glance with as much angry resolution as before, “and you think I’ll pretend there’s nothing wrong?  Not likely. It’s me, we can talk.”

“There’s not a point,” his voice rose to match hers, still low in comparison to her near-squeak, “even if the dragons are beaten back this time, they’ll come again after we’re all dust and no one remembers what happened.  Down through the ages the world’s never been at peace, and it never will.” 

Bright teeth showed in Pleek’s mouth for a moment, reflecting another dying flicker of fireworks when she grimaced.  “That doesn’t mean we can just watch it happen. We have the ability make things a little better wherever we are, so we should.”

“Sometimes I’m tired of this, you know,” Charter shook his head bitterly, refusing to meet her eyes again.  “I’m not enough, and you’re not enough, either.” His lips compressed in a twisted line, as if closing his mouth tightly could snatch the words back out of the air.

Pleek was speechless for a moment at the rebuff.  “If that’s...” she withdrew a short step, eyes smarting.  Sudden anger and shame at the reaction flushed her cheeks with heat but faded just as fast, leaving an aching hollowness.  Unbidden, her hand rose to scratch at her breastplate, the place it sought already bright from nervous use. Clawtips made a tiny rasping noise as she started to turn to walk back to the others where they were still celebrating.  The flat bit of crystal and its contents were heavy where it was tucked beneath worried metal.

His voice stopped her.  “Pleek,” Charter leaned toward the asura, reaching out.  His hand found the one she’d lifted to her chest and five digits enfolded four, pulling.  “I’m sorry. Just... please stay.”

She didn’t let herself be pulled, stepping forward to keep the connection slack between them.  Pushing the shield out of the way, she planted herself on the sand next to him in silence, narrow shoulder rubbing against his elbow.  Their joined hands rested across the minuscule space left between the pair.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in /gw2g/.
> 
> Events referenced here correspond to in-game events: the gathering of a guild in pre-Scarlet's War Lion's Arch to celebrate forging of a legendary weapon.


End file.
